Reign of a Billionaire : A Dark Mafia Enemies-to-Lovers Romance

“Perez will have a whole fucking army around him. Especially now that you single-handedly killed off my uncle and all his guards.” I killed Santiago, but I wouldn’t have been able to get near him without Giovanni’s help. Not that we’d share that tiny bit of information with Perez.

“Like I said, I can handle myself.”

“Liana, don’t be reckless. You won’t help anyone by getting yourself killed.”

“The world thinks I’m already dead.”

“But you’re not.” He took a step forward. “You know, this could be your chance to start fresh. Away from everything and everyone in this world.”

My fists tightened until I felt my muscles burn. I flashed him my most punishing glare, then jammed a finger against his chest.

“Not until I make those responsible for my sister’s death pay.” Not until I find her—dead or alive. “She was half of me.” My voice sounded far away, even to my ears. Pain and adrenaline buzzed through my veins. “Can’t you see, Giovanni? I can’t move on. I’m not okay.” My voice trailed off as I tamped down a sniffle. “I’ll never be okay, not while those responsible roam this earth.”

Each heartbeat was more painful than the last.

“You won’t find closure. Only more questions.” Giovanni’s calm voice ripped through the chaos in my chest and my mind. I met his green eyes. He sounded collected, but underneath the surface, I sensed something else. Something familiar.

“What are you saying?” I whispered.

“You know, probably better than anyone, that nothing is simple in our world. I don’t know what happened to your sister, but even if she’s alive, she won’t be the same person you remember.”

The vivid images from the night my life shattered around me played through my head. My broken body. My broken mind. If my twin survived, she’d be in worse shape than I ever was.

I didn’t have a choice but to go after answers. She’d do the same for me.

Chapter 28Liana, 18 Years Old

My mother’s screams rippled through the air, but I could barely hear them. It was like I was underwater, drowning.

I opened my eyes, the blurry outline of my mother swimming above me, and I realized I was drowning. I tried to resist, flailing my arms and kicking my legs, fighting against her hold.

My eyes widened, staring at her through ripples of water. I opened my mouth to ask why, but only bubbles came out. Gurgles. Burning my lungs. Seeping into my muscles.

Somehow, someway, even through the fog of pain, my brain was urging me to fight, but my arms were getting weaker. My lungs were failing.

And then I was yanked out.

Screams rang in the air. Not my own. Not my mother’s.

A video played in the background. “You killed her,” Mother hissed. “Your actions led to your sister’s death.” Water dripped off my eyelashes. I blinked desperately, trying to understand. What was happening? “You might as well have been the one to end your sister.”

“Why?” I whispered to the woman who gave me birth.

It hurt to breathe. It hurt to move.

“This is why,” she screamed, pointing to the screen behind her.

My teeth clattering, I found the strength to sit up. The burning in my lungs flared, but I ignored it. I had to see what she was talking about. It was then that my eyes zeroed in on the screen, the scene sending horror through me. Every fiber of my being shredded into atoms that would never be the same.

“You’re too weak.” My mother’s voice was breaking my heart. “Too soft. You cannot survive like that in this world.” Tears ran down my cheeks, not understanding. “The strong daughter can survive this underworld. The stronger daughter will take it over when I’m gone.”

I panted, confusion wading with my terror.

Another scream tore through the air, and she looked away. My gaze followed and locked on the source.

The sharp inhale of breath. A tortured scream. Deafening silence.

Chapter 29Liana, Present

Giovanni Agosti’s tall frame, encased in a three-piece suit, seemed overdressed for a meeting with Perez. But hey, who was I to argue with an Italian?

Meanwhile, he studied me where I stood, clad in black jeans and a white shirt, with undergarments that would turn off a sex addict.

We’d been in the guest bedroom arguing for the past twenty minutes. One thing was clear, this man was as stubborn as a mule. It was annoying as fuck, and I already felt sorry for whatever woman fell for the man’s bedroom eyes. Because they were the only thing going for him.

“You’re sure I can’t convince you not to do this?” he asked in an aggravated tone. He was pissed off, his jaw clenched and eyes trained on me as if he were seeing me for the last time.

“Ya uverne.” When he gave me a blank look, I added in English, “I’m sure.”

It wasn’t often I spoke Russian. It hadn’t felt right since… Not since I’d lost my twin.

“I didn’t know you spoke Russian.”

It was my turn for a blank stare. “You do know I’m Russian, right?”

“You do know I’m Italian, right?”